Elswyth tensed. Silas pushed up against her, pressing her into the column. He took his hand from her mouth and unclasped the amulet, taking it back. She sucked in a breath.
Behind her, the guard inspected the case where the amberheart had once been, looking confused. He swung the door of the case open, and then began to shout.
“Break in! Intruder—”
Silas extended his arm in a flash—a vine whipped out from his sleeve, wrapping itself around the guard’s neck. His cry was cut off as he scratched at his throat.
Silas grunted, pulling the man toward him. Then he clamped his hand over the man’s mouth, and powder plumed from it. The guard breathed it in and then collapsed.
“What did you do?” Elswyth asked. In the distance, the sound of boots echoed on the marble floors, growing closer. A bell began to ring from the main hall.
“I fabricated chloroform. He’ll be fine. We need to go,” Silas said, taking her hand. The vine he’d used to snare the guard slithered back into his sleeve.
Silas pulled her away from the sleeping guard and into the labyrinth of the museum; behind them, the doors crashed open, guards spilling into the exhibit. Silas ducked right and then left until they were at the edge of the main rotunda. The elderwood tree stood at the center of the courtyard, casting its eerie glow around the room. The last of the guards ran across the floor, toward the commotion.
“There,” Silas said, pointing across the room, “that’s where we came in. Let’s go.”
Before she could object, Silas was off across the floor. She followed, lifting the hem of her cloak and running behind him.
“Stop!” a voice said. Elswyth turned, just as a guard set upon her, billy club raised. Kehinde’s training took over. She raised her hand, summoning witch-hazel thorns to her fingertips. She slashed her hand, and the witch-thorns flew, embedding themselves in the man’s face. He paused for a moment, surprised, and then fell to his knees. The sedative took effect, and he slumped over, unconscious.
She turned to run but found Silas battling two guards. The vine-whip on his right hand lashed out, grabbing a guard’s foot. Silas knelt and pulled back, and the guard fell with athudon the marble floor. With his other hand, Silas reached behind the collar of his overcoat. A silver blade appeared, pulled from a hidden sheath along his spine. He flipped the sword once around his hand and assumed a fighting stance.
“No!” shouted Elswyth. She fired thorns at the second guard, dropping him. Silas turned back to her, eyebrow arched. “No killing.”
He rolled his eyes. “As you wish. Now let’s—”
More guards poured into the room. Soon they would be surrounded. Elswyth pulled the cloak of her hood lower, concealing her scar.
The guards raised their clubs, stepping warily over the bodies of their peers. Silas and Elswyth slowly backed away until they were pressed against the huge elderwood tree at the center of the rotunda. The guards fell in around them, and suddenly they were cornered.
Elswyth’s hands found the cool bark of the tree. An idea occurred to her.
“Silas, give me the amberheart,” she said.
Silas looked at her suspiciously.
“Now,” she whispered. Silas produced the amulet from his pocket and handed it to her. The stone felt warm in her grasp.
“Get your vine ready,” she said.
“What?”
“Grab my waist,” she said.
“I—What?”
She reached her mind into the amberheart and pulled. A flood of vitæ filled her, more than she’d ever held. She pushed it into the ancient tree, forcing it into the roots, grappling with the stubborn wood.
The tree began to groan, the stone-hard roots fighting her at every turn. The leaves rustled, and the guards stopped their advance, frightened. The amberheart continued to fill her with vitæ. The dirt at their feet began to shift, the roots waking and moving. She almost stumbled as the floor began to sag, dirt falling through the roots like a sieve.
And then the tree swallowed them.
Elswyth fell, pulling Silas down with her. They vanished between the spreading roots, shooting past the surface, then farther down, through the dirt and into the chamber below. The earth snapped shut behind them, the guards vanishing, and they fell in total darkness.
Elswyth jerked to a stop. Silas clutched her waist, and when she opened her eyes, she saw his vine-whip extending upward, toward the elderwood tree, wrapped around an ancient root. They dangled in the hidden catacomb beneath the main rotunda, descending toward the floor.
Silas looked down at her, holding her tightly to his chest. The vine-whip lowered them onto the ground gently. Silas never took his eyes off of her. In the glow of the elderwood roots above he looked angelic, the white light shining on his hair like a halo.
